Signs We Should Have Recognized . . .

[cabrales]

He said they were South African Gooseberries.

[Matthew Grant]

I misread that - I thought it said "he gave me syphilis"

[muon]

Tavern on the Green.

It was my birthday, so time for the obligatory birthday dinner for eight, at a top-secret location. I was to meet well-meaning Friend 1, the event organizer, on the NW corner of 57 and 8, precisely at 6:55pm. She was 10 minutes late.

We procure a cab, and head up Central Park West. I'm terribly excited to experience another great meal, with great friends, at a new restaurant. And then the cab pulls over to the right 9 blocks later. My heart sinks. I know where we're going. I've explicitly not dined there because I know the reputation.

I choose fight, rather than flight, and feign happy surprise at this venerable institution. Cordial words are exchanged with the hostess. It's 10 minutes after our reservation, and we're the first to arrive (red flag). Our table is ready however, so we're immediately seated at a grand table in the center of a relatively empty room.

Another 10 minutes later, harried Friend 2 arrives, bustling with apologies for being late. She settles, pauses, and then "Where is everyone else?" "They must be running a little late." We place a drink order -- they come quickly as most of the wait staff is milling around, with not much to do.

Another 5 minutes, and we're approached by a manager. In a booming voice we're told that they can't keep us at this table much longer, but if the rest of our party doesn't show soon they'd be happy to move us to a smaller table. I'm thinking to myself he could have whispered the announcement and we still would have heard -- the room was maybe 1/3 full. We apologize and inform him that our friends must be here soon. We pull out cell phones -- and get voice mail. Concerned messages are left.

Another 5 minutes, and although the conversation is light, the tension is mounting. I'm envisioning a complicated scenario in which we're moved to a 4-top, and then immediately everyone shows up. As I'm running through equally dreadful scenarios in my head, Friend 3 bounds around the corner, smiles, holds up an index finger to wait, and disappears again. Thirty seconds later he returns with Friends 4 - 7 in tow.

"Where have you been?" "In the bar" "What time did you get here" "We've been here for 45 minutes" "What??" "The host told us he couldn't seat us until everyone was here" "WHAT?"

What made the situation even more ludicrous is that half of the AWOL posse had arrived before myself and Friend 1 were seated at our table, and the rest arrived after. They all knew the name the reservation was under. Somewhere in the middle, Friend 2 shows, and is immediately brought to the table. At some point, someone relegated to wait in the bar inquired with the hostess whether anyone else had arrived ("Of course not -- we know you're here and we'll send them back to the bar as they arrive"). Friend 4 found the concerned voice mail from me, and lapped the restaurant on his own to find us.

I muster all my mental capacity to keep my head from exploding, although an aneurysm is still possible. I have to be forcibly restrained, by my friends, from having words with the manager (my temper is such situations is well documented). Someone else speaks to management -- and then relays back an apology with bonus free desserts. That, rather than an in-person apology to the entire table was deemed to be adequate.

Although my rage dissipates, it's impossible for me enjoy the remainder of the meal to the extent I should have (being the center of attention as the birthday boy). The bulk of the meal was completely unmemorable. Someone had to send back an overdone steak. Etc. etc. The chocolate souffle, however, was excellent.

A bit of back story -- I find out later that Friends 2 - 7 really didn't want to choose Tavern for this meal, but the organizer, misguided Friend 1, was so excited that I would be excited, that they rolled on it.

IN SUMMARY:

What are some of the signs you wish you'd recognized that indicated a restaurant meal was inevitably headed towards disaster?

Cab stopping in front of Tavern on the Green.

What did you do about it?

Feign happy suprise.

Did you head for the lifeboats or go down with the ship?

Down with the ship.

Does it get any worse?

POSTSCRIPT. I recently get a call from Friend 1: "I heard back from Tavern, in response to that letter that I wrote about the birthday debacle {note this was 4 months later}. They sent me a $100 gift certificate. Do you want to go next week?" "Um, why don't you take your mom there when she next visits, and we'll go to Tabla instead."

Edited January 18, 2003 by muon33 (log)

[pixelchef]

For me, it's condescension.

See, I'm kinda young considering, but a very experienced "foodie". I'm 22, and my girlfriend and I dine out about 4-5 times a month. I think because we're young, we aren't taken seriously sometimes, and sometimes that is very apparent in the way the service staff treats us right from the beginning. It's almost like they're thinking "they probably can't afford a first course let alone my tip!" or something like that.

I myself would easily stand up and leave, but my girlfriend would never let me "make a scene". I absolutely hate not being taken seriously.